163.  Friend Of The Friendless

1
Lord of my life, to thee I call;
Afflicted, at thy feet I fall;
When the great trouble floods prevail,
Leave not my troubled heart to fail.

2
Friend of the friendless and the faint,
Where should I lodge my deep complaint?
Where, but with thee, whose open door
Invites the helpless and the poor?

3
Did ever mourner plead with thee,
And thou refuse that mourner’s plea?
Does not the promise still remain,
That none shall seek thy face in vain?

4
Poor though I be, despised, forgot,
Yet Christ, my Lord, forgets me not;
His promises I daily plead,
And he supplies my ev’ry need.